


Just Trust That I'm Being True

by YataNoSaru (TsukkiNoNeko)



Category: K (Anime)
Genre: (I swear), (kinda), Angst and Feels, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Angst with a Happy Ending, Happy Ending, How Do I Tag, I Don't Even Know, M/M, Porn with Feelings, Post-Canon, Post-Canon Fix-It, um
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-20
Updated: 2020-07-20
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:27:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25396903
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TsukkiNoNeko/pseuds/YataNoSaru
Summary: Misaki is haunted by his mistakes.He doesn't know if he's dwelling in his own misery because he can't fix it or hewon't.Or,Post-Canon, MY WAY.
Relationships: Fushimi Saruhiko/Yata Misaki
Comments: 2
Kudos: 70
Collections: Creative Chaos Discord Recs





	Just Trust That I'm Being True

**Author's Note:**

> Self-indulgent and a thank-you fic to Tipe, aka [twitter link here](https://twitter.com/mementomoli_)! 
> 
> True story, I fell in love with their SaruMi last summer and they also draw DabiHawks, so who am I not to love them more?

For all his life, Misaki only wanted a sense of _belonging_.

And that _belonging_ was taken from him as soon as it was given to him.

Middle school was hell for him, and Saru came to him like a single ray of _hope_ and _caring_. Even though the other boy sucked at expressing himself, he still knew.

Knew that past those walls of his, there was a heart beating _for him_.

And it got ruined.

Because of his stupid pride.

///

The years spent away from Saru was _hell_.

In the sea of loneliness, all he saw was desperation and twinge of guilt. The wound that was cut open by _himself_ when Saru walked out of his life kept bleeding love.

Every time HOMURA was to confront Sceptre 4, he would act like Saru didn’t matter to him anymore, but in secret, he cried himself to sleep.

_Because they don’t know the truth of my heart being crippled by the vein that won’t reseal itself_ , Misaki berated himself, fiddling with the watch Saru gave him when they were barely friends.

_There’s that old tale, tale as old as anyone can remember… from Greece? I remember Saru telling me the story,_ he remarks. _Humans were born with two sets of everything, and Zeus was fearful of us. That’s why he split us into two and made us find each other in our lifetime._

_Two hearts beating in sync, bound to each other._

With a shaky breath, he whispers, “are you my other half?”

///

It didn’t get any better.

He was but a man who loved Saru so much, he couldn’t even say that. He was so close to Saru, yet so far away. He could reach out, but at the same time, he couldn’t. He was just a walking disaster, and as much as he’d put on a happy face and smile like nothing mattered, he still _fucking missed_ his Saru _, and he only worried for Saru._

He was so in love with his ex, supposed ex anyways, and it crippled him.

“Saru…”

His background hologramme for his watch is the selfie he took with Saru when they were still in middle school, happy and unaware of their upcoming hardships.

///

He felt like a fool. He didn’t know if he’s sad or happy.

He just wanted to be _next to Saru_.

“Yata-chan,” Kusanagi-san jolted him out of his reverie. “Can you pick up an order for me, please?”

  
  


The place he had to pick up Kusanagi-san’s personal favourite pick of booze and the bean paste wasn’t a hard job. 

The hard part is the fact that he had to skate past the Sceptre 4 building.

If he were a King, he’d have enough power to take Saru away from this place and run away. Start a new life elsewhere. 

But he isn’t, and he’s been sulking for the last two years.

///

When Misaki turned twenty, a few things happened.

The Greens, JUNGLE, started their interference with the business between HOMURA and Sceptre 4, forcing them to work together for a few moments of time. Of course, the Silver King was behind it, but that was not the main event.

Saru actively volunteered to set a few death flags on himself for the sake of the Blue King, Munakata Reisi.

And it fell on him to take care of a recovering Fushimi Saruhiko.

“You stupid monkey,” he berates Saru first thing when his ex wakes up. “You almost died!”

“Well, I knew I could count on you…” Saru smiles weakly, a rare occasion that makes Misaki’s heart flutter like he’s in elementary school and got a crush on a boy for the first time.

  
  


Hours fly by, and the moon rises before long, peeping through the blinds on the window. Misaki finds _his_ Saru asleep, and he reaches out without thinking, his thumb already poised over the soft lips. 

  
  


He dips his head down and covers his thumb with his own lips, waking Saru up effectively.

  
  


“I didn’t mean to!” his face is still close to Saru’s.

“You didn’t mean to steal a kiss from me while I was passed out, Misaki?”

So, he does a stupid thing and covers Saru’s warm lips with his own without a thumb in the way.

///

Apparently, a stab wound in the thigh without any healing powers from a Strain means _hell_ for Saru. Misaki got used to taking care of his… old friend by the time Saru could walk with a small limp.

“I think you should just use a crutch,” Misaki tells Saru for the hundredth time, flustered.

“This way, I got more support,” Saru keeps arguing, and Misaki just sighs.

He isn’t _too_ against this. It just shows that Saru trusted him.

“I think we’re being followed,” Saru whispers abruptly. “A former Strain, perhaps?”

“That’s a valid option,” he agrees, readjusting his hat. “But why target us?”

“We were both high in ranking with our respective Clans,” Saru reasons, taking a turn towards a smaller path. “I think they want some intel.”

  
  


When they end up in a very narrow alleyway, Saru turns around and throws a handful of knives at their stalker, pinning him to the brick wall.

“We aren’t really patient right now, my friend,” Saru starts, idly spinning a knife between his fingers. “We were on a date, you see…”

_Not how you start an interrogation, Saru_! Misaki can feel his cheeks heating up.

“Like I should care about a couple of fags,” their stalker spits.

Saru’s knives miss the man’s throat by a millimetre, cutting off a few strands of his hair.

“Call _my_ Misaki that once more and I don’t give a damn that I’m a part of the special task force,” Saru warns the man. “Now, where were we?”

“We are watching you,” the possible former Strain smirks. “You both serve a niche to our plan.”

“The Slate was destroyed…”

Saru seems to be lost in thought, and that’s when Misaki realises that their stalker has a weapon of his own. The gunshots go off, and Misaki loses consciousness.

///

He wakes up to an unfamiliar scene, and he doesn’t feel any pain. It’s odd, but at least he’s still alive.

“The bullets were fake rubber ones,” Saru explains, voice seemingly out of nowhere. “You got internal bruising from getting hit in the stomach. You won’t be able to eat solid food for a bit, and I was elected as your… watcher for a while.”

“How strange these times be, eh?”

///

The internal bruising didn't hurt Misaki as much as the doctors at Sceptre 4 were initially worried. Within a week, he gets out of the hospital, and that’s when he realises something Saru said when he got hurt.

“You said we were on a date,” he blushes.

“I mean… are you against the idea of us being together again, Misaki?”

The words hit him like a freighter train. Like a tidal wave crashing over him when he was trying to tan.

And the butterflies fluttering in his stomach are the same kind of butterflies that swarmed him the day he met his boyfriend in the toilets.

“By the way, Misaki?” he looks at his boyfriend. “Happy birthday.”

///

They arrive at the shitty apartment Misaki kept out of nostalgia attached at their lips. They only pull away for air, and once the door’s unlocked, Misaki kicks it shut and pins his boyfriend against the door.

“Oya, are you trying to show me something, Misaki~” Saru has so much confidence, it’s almost breathtaking. 

“Shut it, damn monkey,” he tries to regain his upperhand, but he doesn’t.

He didn’t have it in the first place.

Few keens leave his mouth when Saru’s familiar lips trek from his jawline to his shoulder, teeth nicking at his sensitive skin.

He’s impatient, waited three years for his boyfriend to come back to him, and they’re by the door like horny teens trying to rut for the first time.

“Hurry up, Misaki~” Saru goads, and that’s the last thing he needs before stripping Saru’s stupid shirt off.

It’s satisfying to see a pale, blank canvas for Misaki to leave marks on. He starts with the clavicles, teeth on either side of the protruding part before he bites down, humming when his boyfriend lets out a moan from the pleasurable pain. He suckles hard, refusing to let go until there’s a mark left on the now-filling canvas.

Before the ten-minute mark, there are so many hickeys littering _his_ Saru’s chest, something those Blues can see whenever _his_ boyfriend is getting changed in public.

“My, my,” Saru sounds pleased by the time Misaki’s done leaving marks _for now_. “I like this view.”

Misaki realises that he’s half-crouched, his head almost level with his boyfriend’s crotch. Not missing the hint, he undoes his trousers with his teeth and pulls them down, groaning low when he finds that Saru isn’t wearing _anything_ under those tight-fitting jeans.

“That’s illegal,” he refutes as he cups Saru’s growing hard-on, feeling the weight get heavier.

“You say that only because it turns you on, Misaki…” 

And who is he to deny it?

Tentatively, the redhead dips his head down and laps at the beading pre-cum, moaning at the taste he’s missed all these years. He slurps around the head, occasionally delving his tongue-tip in the slit just the way Saru likes it. The pre sluices out more and more by the time his lips stretch around the head, then he glides down until it’s buried in the back of his throat.

They both like pain.

That much was discovered when Saru forgot the lube the first time they tried fingering. In a moment a mini gay panic, Misaki bit down on his boyfriend’s shoulder and the rest is history.

Saru doesn’t wait before he starts to fuck into Misaki’s throat, whose throat is relaxed and skilful enough to take the forceful jabs. He starts moaning wantonly, his hand going down towards his shorts.

“No, Misaki~” Saru sounds stern about this. “You can’t touch yourself when I’m here to do that for you…”

The voice is too hot for him to ignore, his dick twitching inside his shorts.

By the time Saru gushes down his throat, he’s painfully hard, and he’s sobbing when Saru’s teeth close around his nipple and bites down, pushing him onto the floor.

As long as he’s been sexually active (only with _his_ Saru though), the redhead has always been so sensitive around his nipples. And Saru, being the bastard he is, uses that against him.

“Do you think you can come from your nipples being touched, Mi~sa~ki?”

Misaki parts his lips to say ‘no’, but his back arches when Saru’s fingertips squeeze around his hardened nipple, rolling the throbbing nub between those deceitful digits.

“Saru, I can’t…”

“Don’t lie to me, Misaki…” Saru growls, and that sound is sexual, _primal_.

Misaki lets out a sighed version of Saru’s name as he comes, coating his belly with his come.

“See? You came just from having your nipples touched!” Saru points out.

“I would hardly call it ‘touching’,” he retorts, coming down from his high. “Don’t you have a refractory system, Saru?”

“Not where you’re concerned, no, Mi~sa~ki~” Saru offers to carry him to their bedroom, and he agrees.

The room is messy, as any other young adult’s room would be. The bed is barely made, but Saru doesn’t seem to mind, ungracefully dropping Misaki onto the sheets and crawling on top of him.

“I love you,” Saru declares.

“I love you too,” Misaki replies, nuzzling their noses together.

It’s the only thing he wanted to hear from Saru for the last three years. Not the barbed jibes, not the mean comments about untruthful things… just the plain honesty.

Their kiss resumes sweetly, laughing against each other’s lips as they get rid of the remaining garments.

“I haven’t been with anyone since we… broke up,” Misaki admits shyly, his cock filling up from feeling like their first time all over again.

“You think I can take another when thoughts of you haunted me every night?” Saru rasps. “Every night, I was haunted by our memories… our kisses, our touches… just being close to each other. I missed you, Yata Misaki, and I won’t ever leave your side ever again.”

“You sound like you want to marry me, Fushimi Saruhiko,” he lets out a chuckle.

“What’s so good about being married when it sounds like it has a time limit to it?” Saru questions. “I’d much rather have unmeasured time with you than have some pressure of losing you all over again.”

“I’m right here.”

And he proves that by kissing his boyfriend hard.

He kisses with all the passion and all the sorrow he’s feeling right now. 

Passion, because he’s with _his_ Saru again, but sorrow, because it took them so long to reconcile.

His body sings with pleasure just from being close to his boyfriend without being anything, but his horny side wants to say otherwise.

“I need you, Saru,” is all he needs to say before Saru’s switch turns on.

If Saru was sexy with his growl before, his gaze right now has any correct words to describe it.

The only, comparable one is that Misaki is the prey and Saru is some wild, feral, untamable beast ready to eat him up.

And he’s all willing.

“I’m all yours,” he adds before Saru’s head dips and laps at his perineum, making him mewl.

It’s a sensation he never got used to, Saru’s long tongue teasing that sensitive part of him only _his_ Saru ever got to explore. He watches his boyfriend slowly scoot down until his tongue traces his rim, then presses inside. It’s weird, having something wet and wiggly pushing its way through his tight muscles, but Saru seems to want to make him feel as good as he can, twisting his nipples with both hands. He lets out a soundless moan, biting down onto the sofa since he doesn’t want his shitty apartment complex neighbours to hear just how loud he can be… again.

“How many times do I have to tell you, Misaki…” Saru clicks his tongue. “I like how slutty you sound when I’m ruining you.”

His breath hitches when Saru’s fingertips graze his rim right under his tongue. He doesn’t mind that they’re dry since he really enjoys the pain of having fingers up his… ass.

“Saru!”

His back arches once more when Saru’s fingertips, so expertly, find his prostate and start stabbing into it, making him sob from pleasure. He’s positive he’s teared up from how forceful those finger-thrusts are, and he comes within minutes from the anticipation.

“Misaki… you’re still selfish, aren’t you?” Saru hums, still thrusting his fingers into his prostate.

“I’m not selfish!” he’s too quick to defend himself. “You’re the one who’s—”

“That’s right, Misaki~” Saru reminds him. “ _I’m_ the only one who can make you feel like this.”

By the time Saru deems Misaki’s hole ready for his cock, Misaki’s lost count of how many times he’s come from Saru’s fingers alone, whether they be in his ass or pinching his nipples.

“You’re so sensitive, my love,” Saru’s tone is different, all the traces of condescendence gone. “I should be able to experience this for the rest of my life…”

A thought evaporates as quickly as it was formed when Saru wraps Misaki’s legs around his own waist and thrusts in. It’s exhilarating, to say the least, to have Saru _inside him_ after all this time. His body is thrumming with the harmonious feeling, it barely registers to him that his boyfriend isn’t moving at all.

“Saru?” he’s confused.

“Don’t wanna hurt you,” is the answer he gets.

“It’ll hurt me if you don’t move, you asshat,” Misaki snarls.

“Always so full of surprise, aren’t you?”

The pain is welcoming.

It’s washing over him, reminding him that yes, _his_ Saru is back with him. The small kisses to his temple and cheeks are the anchor to this mind-blowing experience.

It’s not like they were trying new kinky stuff like they were sixteen again.

It’s the fact that they could feel the mutual trust and mutual respect resonating between them.

“Don’t let me go,” Saru whispers just as he comes inside Misaki, to which he replies,

“You’re my home.”

///

The morning after is… eventful.

Misaki forgot the glory of waking up naked next to a lover, he screeched like a virgin when he found Saru naked and smiling next to him in their bed.

The smile, though, halts any thought processes in Misaki’s head.

The smile tells him that he’s got nothing to worry about.

For now, he has to cook a dish for two, without any vegetables or fruits.

**Author's Note:**

> Might open comms but anxiety has me by my ankles.


End file.
